Brothers and Bullies
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. Preseries. Al runs into a little...bully trouble, shall we say. Not shonenai, as if you needed to know.


**Author's Note: This is based on/inspired by the first part of Roald Dahl's short story "The Swan" and an incident in Fyodor Dostoevsky's novel _The Brothers Karamazov_. Of course, I haven't written this half so well as either of them did, but in my defense I can say that neither of them wrote it for FMA lol. Anyway, this is a story about brothers and bullies, and I'm not sure the names I made up quite fit into the FMA world shrugs**

"Well, lookee here. If it ain't ole Squirt's kid brother."

"Wanna have some fun, boys?"

"Let's see if he wants to play."

Alphonse Elric gulped nervously as the three biggest boys in the school started towards him. School was over for the day, so the playground in front of it was deserted. Except for Al and these bullies, that is. Willard, Jenson, and Peake, the most notorious troublemakers in Risenpool. They were the sort of boys who broke small children's arms on the playground, stole little girls' pocket money, and set foxes loose in chicken coops. Somehow, they were never caught in the act, nor could any solid evidence be found against them. Every child in Risenpool lived in fear of the Terrible Trio, as the bullies were called, and dared not report them to their parents or teachers. Retribution, they knew, would be swift and final. Once, a brave girl named Emma Darkwater had stood up to the Trio, and had been found later that day lying in a bush with half the bones in her body broken. The Darkwaters had hastily moved to East City and never returned.

Fear was the Terrible Trio's greatest weapon, greater than their strong muscles, large fists, or the bad grades that had kept them in primary school two years after they should have graduated. Fear gave them their power and kept them safe.

Al had had run-ins with the Trio several times before, and wasn't looking forward to another confrontation. He glanced at the door to the schoolhouse, but it was still closed. His brother had been asked to stay after class because he had not finished his homework. Al had promised to wait for him, but now he was regretting his promise.

"Hey, Elric!" Willard, the leader of the Trio, called out jovially.

"Wanna have some fun?" Peake asked, cracking his knuckles with a snicker.

"I'd rather not," Al replied quietly, trying not to look any of them in the eye. They were like dogs; if you looked straight at them, they saw it as a threat. "I'm waiting for my brother; he should be out any minute."

"Yeah, but he's not here now, is he, pal?" asked Jenson.

"And you know what that means?" Peake added.

"There's no one to hear you cry."

* * *

Edward Elric stepped out of the schoolhouse, frowning dejectedly. The sun was going down already; there wouldn't be time to play with Winry before supper. And all because of some stupid homework. Ed was pondering this when he looked up and saw the form of his little brother leaning against the gate. But there was something different about the way Al was standing...

He hurried over to where Al was bending over, trying to stop the blood that was pouring from a viciously scraped knee. His lip was also bleeding, his shirt was torn, and there was a large bruise on his upper arm. "What happened, Al?" Ed asked in shock.

"Fell down," Al muttered, looking up at his brother.

Ed understood that look to mean, 'It was _Them,_ Brother.' He frowned, but all he said was, "Next time, watch out where you're going."

Al nodded and the two of them started home. When they reached the small footbridge over the stream that ran by their house, Ed bent down to get his handkerchief wet. "Here," he said, handing it to his little brother.

Al murmured his thanks and bent to clean his wounds, while Ed stood watching him with a troubled frown.

* * *

A few days later, Ed was called to stay behind after class again. "Don't wait for me this time," he muttered to Al. "Just go home, and I'll catch up later."

Al didn't like the worried tone of his voice, so he tried to sound cheerful when he said, "If you would just finish your homework on time, Brother-"

"Edward!" the teacher called.

Ed gave him one last worrying look and ducked back into the classroom. As Al joined the other children meandering their way back home, he wished his brother hadn't looked at him that way. The fear and concern in those golden eyes made Al tremble all over. And Winry was chattering with her friends up ahead, so he couldn't go to her for comfort. He trudged along with the others, wondering how everyone could be laughing and talking with such carefree voices.

Gradually, everyone petered away as they came to their houses. Winry went to one of her friends' houses, waving goodbye to Al. He made a feeble attempt at a smile, and continued on. His house was the farthest from the school, and he climbed the last hill by himself. He had just crossed the little stone bridge and looked up at his house when three large boys broke out of the trees on the side of the road. Al quickened his pace, but the Trio soon caught up with him.

"Well, well, well," Willard drawled. "If it isn't Squirt Junior."

Before Al could run for it, Jenson and Peake had grabbed him, ripped his schoolbag out of his hands, and held him so tight there was no hope of escape. When Al struggled, the only reward he got for his pains was Jenson's fist colliding with his nose. Blood began to trickle from the left nostril; Al tried to sniff it back up so it wouldn't stain his new school shirt.

Willard practically leapt at the opportunity to humiliate him some more. "Oh, poor wittle Squirty's cryin'! We'd better cheer 'im up, boys, hadn't we? We'll show 'im our new game!"

Jenson and Peake both agreed profusely, and marched Al off the path. Al glanced longingly back at his house, where his mother would surely be setting out milk and fruit for him and his brother to eat. But the Trio pushed him roughly along, down the hill to the train tracks. Al felt his insides clench with fear at the cold, glistening rails. He wasn't sure what these insane boys had in mind, but it was likely to be something deadly and terrifying. They were chuckling at some secret joke of theirs as they kept pushing him down toward the tracks.

"Wh-What are you doing?" Al asked tremulously as Willard pulled out a ball of strong string.

"Less talk, Squirt-Gun," Willard snapped. "Okay, lay 'im down between the tracks."

"What?! You're crazy!" Al yelled, panic rising like bile in his throat, making his voice oddly high-pitched. Jenson and Peake shoved him roughly into the gravel that lay between the rails, and began to tie Al securely to the train tracks. Al struggled, but the boys were good at knot tying; he could hardly move his body at all. The Trio backed away a little to sit on the grass at a safe distance.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Al cried, tears of sheer panic blurring his view of the clouds above. "Are you trying to kill me or something?"

"Hey, maybe we are, Squirt-Gun," Willard chuckled. "Smart little kid, ain't ya?"

The other two laughed and continued to mock Al's 'cleverness', but he wasn't listening to them anymore. He could feel a faint rumbling through the ground and the metal strips he was tied to. Suddenly there came a high-pitched whistle that sent thrills of terror right through him, paralyzing him. His mind went completely blank, focused entirely on the rumbling that grew steadily louder. It was coming closer...and closer...

* * *

Ed trudged glumly up the hill, kicking at pebbles and digging his hands as deep as they could go in his pockets. Stupid homework... Why did he have to finish it anyway? When he looked up after crossing the bridge, Ed stopped short. His mother was standing on the crest of the hill, holding something in her arms. She hadn't come to meet them after school since Al was in kindergarten. Confused and a little worried, Ed trotted up the hill to his mother.

"Edward!" she exclaimed, putting a hand on his shoulder before he could ask anything. "Where's Alphonse? Where is your little brother?" Her whole face was covered with worry, and when she shifted the object in her arms he could see why.

"Al's bag!" Ed cried, snatching it from his mother's grip and staring at it. There was no mistaking it, but where was Al if his bag was here? Looking around desperately for some sort of clue, he noticed a small dark puddle that _might_ have been blood – it was too hard to tell in the rapidly-falling dusk. There was another splotch some way off the road, in the grass.

"Call the police, Mom," Ed said tensely, dropping the bag and starting to follow the trail of blood. He just hoped his suspicions weren't correct...

"But Edward, what-"

Ed turned around and met his mother's eyes. A beam of understanding and trust passed between them, and Ed suddenly felt more grown-up than ever before. "Hurry," was all his mother said before turning and running towards the house.

Ed spun back around and followed the trail of blood. He felt sick inside when he realized it was leading to the train tracks, and sped up. Finally, he came to the crest of the hill and looked down on the frightful scene. The Terrible Trio, sitting on the grass and guffawing, and beyond them a blurred white something lying in between the train tracks. "Hey!" he shouted, rage boiling up inside of him. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

The Trio slowly got to their feet and faced him. Willard called up, "Surely you don't mean yourself, Pipsqueak?"

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING A-" A shrill whistle cut through his shout, and to his horror Ed saw a gigantic freight train hurtling down the tracks.

The Trio turned gleefully to watch, and Ed sprang into action. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper on which he had drawn a transmutation circle a few days ago and flung it onto the ground, activating it. Huge hands made of earth sprang out of the ground and wrapped themselves tightly around Willard, Jenson, and Peake, holding the bullies immobile.

By that time, the train had passed. There was no movement from the small white object on the tracks. "Al!" Ed screamed, running down the hill as the police arrived behind him. He flung himself onto his knees in the gravel beside Al's prostrate, blood-spattered body. His silver eyes were closed. Ed tore at the strings that bound Al to the tracks until they came loose, and then he clumsily dragged his little brother out of danger.

Al's foot got tangled in the string, and Ed was tugging it loose when a soft voice said, "Brother?"

Ed whirled around to find himself staring into Al's silver eyes. "Al! You're...You're okay!" He wasn't dead, or even hurt!

"Yeah." Al flushed bright red. "Um...I think I...fainted."

Together, they burst into hysterical laughter. Alphonse Elric, his little brother, had fainted like a girl. And he, Edward Elric, was now crying like a girl.


End file.
